


Too Much Darkness In The Life

by allonsy_gabriel



Series: Another 51 [27]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Angst, Crowley's Hiss (Good Omens), Demonic Wrath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentioned Warlock Dowling, Mostly hurt though, Protective Crowley, Thaddeus Dowling's A+ Parenting, Unpleasant, angelic wrath, fUCK thaddeus dowling, for good fucking reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 15:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsy_gabriel/pseuds/allonsy_gabriel
Summary: Crowley was not, as one of Aziraphale’s old, old friends might’ve said, a tame demon.He was caring and enthusiastic and compassionate and funny and so, so kind, but he was still capable of biting and scratching and snapping.He was still wild.





	Too Much Darkness In The Life

**Author's Note:**

> HEY HEY HEY WARNING: this fic does deal with mentioned child abuse, and crowley's descriptions of what he'd do to thaddeus are Kinda Nasty so if either of those are Not Your Cup Of Tea, you should click out now. you're more important than a story.
> 
> stay safe out there

Crowley was not, as one of Aziraphale’s old, old friends might’ve said, a _ tame demon _.

He was caring and enthusiastic and compassionate and funny and so, so kind, but he was still capable of biting and scratching and snapping.

He was still _ wild _.

Aziraphale saw it in flashes, that fierce glint in the demon’s eye, the way his lips curled and his jaw tightened. He saw the way Crowley’s fingers would twitch as they walked down the street and chaos would erupt around them.

A man yelling at someone over the phone would spill scorchingly hot coffee all over his front. A woman harassing a young couple on the street would trip and tumble over, scraping herself on the pavement. Disinterested fathers would drop and crack their fancy smartphones, traffic lights would change quickly and require rude drivers to slam on their breaks.

Crowley would smile, a vicious thing, and squeeze the angel’s hand tighter.

He would get angry and indignant, pacing back and forth around the flat they now shared above the bookshop (a flat that was suddenly much larger than it had been when Aziraphale had purchased the space 200 years ago), clenching his fists and _ seething _. Wrathful.

“I’ll kill him,” Crowley hissed. “I’ll rip him apart limb from _ fucking _ limb, I’ll tear out his throat with my teeth, I’ll peel off his skin slowly, make sure he feels it tearing away from the muscle and bone, I’ll—”

“Breathe, dearest,” Aziraphale said, standing in front of the demon. He didn’t reach out, didn’t touch, didn’t raise his voice but didn’t offer platitudes. “You’re being irrational.”

“Well, maybe I don’t _ want _to be rational, angel!” Crowley shouted. “Maybe I want to dig my clawssss into his stomach and watch hissss blood ssssseep acrossssss the floor!”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said evenly, not quite chastising but very close to it.

“How are you not upsssset?” the demon snapped.

“Oh, I am,” Aziraphale countered. “I assure you, I am absolutely livid. I am simply not contemplating _ murder _.”

“He _ pussssshed _ Warlock. To the ground. He _ sssssssshoved _ the boy—our— _ the boy _ to the floor and—I want him dead. I want him _ more _ than dead. I want him to ssssssuffer like no one hassss ever sssssuffered before, I want him on hissss kneesssss at my feet, pleading for mercsssssy ssssso I can look into his eyesss asss I _ deny it _.”

For a moment, Aziraphale envied Crowley’s wildness, his wrath, his rage. He wished—

Only for a moment. Only for a split second, if only to see the look on Thaddeus Dowling’s face as Aziraphale hoisted his flaming sword above his head—

“We can’t,” he said, interrupting his own twisted fantasy. “Crowley, we—it’s not—it’d be—”

“It’d be _ what _ , angel? Too cruel? Too nasssssty? Too _ evil _ ?” Crowley sneered. “I’m a _ demon _ , I’m sssssupposesssed to be wicked, I’m not _ nicssse _ or _ ssssoft _ or—”

“So don’t be,” Aziraphale cut in, unphased by the way the demon stalked closer, his teeth bared in a snarl, his canines so sharp they almost looked like fangs. “We’ll tell the authorities. We’ll tell the _ press _ . We’ll take Warlock away from that horrible man, and Harriet, too, if she’d like, and then we’ll _ burn _ Thaddeus Dowling. He’ll be disgraced, a pariah. We’ll be sure he never holds power again. Over _ anyone _.”

Crowley stared at him for a moment, and all at once the anger seemed to seep out of him. Not all of it, no, but the parts that were poisonous and boiling and acidic, the parts that inspired tales of monsters and dragons and beasts, they all drained away.

Aziraphale opened up his arms, and the demon all but fell into them. “We never should’ve left,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s collar. “We never should have left him there. Left him alone.”

“It’s not our fault, dear one,” Aziraphale murmured, carding his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “And now that—now that we _ know _, we’ll put an end to it. Warlock will be safe, darling. We’ll be sure of it.”

Crowley hummed, and Aziraphale placed a kiss just below his ear, right atop his snake tattoo.

Crowley was not a tame demon, no.

But Aziraphale wouldn’t have him any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> aAhahaAhaaaaaaah this was difficult to write for a number of reasons but uuuuuh  
yikes  
please tell me what you think


End file.
